


Rescue

by SonicCeleste



Series: Crystals and Rolanberries [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bard Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Don’t leave your journal out in the open G’raha jeez, Gen, Minor G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, lots of sad feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicCeleste/pseuds/SonicCeleste
Summary: In the Umbilicus, Ardbert and No’a stumble across a journal.
Series: Crystals and Rolanberries [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841296
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand now all the important WoLExarch points have been written! Now I just need to put them in order...

No’a would’ve liked to say that he always knew it was G’raha Tia under the decorated hood of the Exarch, but in truth, he’d all too easily accepted the lie because he was too used to loss by that point. It was only now, when the secret was exposed, did he realise how much he missed in hindsight - how the Exarch slipped past No’a’s question about the Seeker remarkably quickly when he first arrived in the Crystarium; the amount of friendliness that initially made him suspicious of the leader; how they had fought together in Holminster Switch so naturally, and then again in Kholusia; even that damn, half-asleep murmur of “The future is where my destiny awaits”... He’d not only heard it straight from the scholar himself, but read it in Cid’s report of that day!! Ugh, for all his Hydaelyn-blessed skills of perception, he could be  _ terribly _ blind…

_ … And yet, that was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? _

Going to such lengths for so many years, even asking Urianger to aid in hiding his identity, just so that when the time came for his  _ carefully planned out suicide _ , the Scions - including No’a - wouldn’t go out of their way to stop him. He knew he was going to sacrifice himself to save both worlds, was content and  _ happy, even, _ with having his name fade to relative obscurity behind the Warrior of Darkness, after everything he’d accomplished…

Maybe it wasn’t so unfeasible that No’a couldn’t tell his true identity, actually. The G’raha he knew, from what little he remembered, wouldn’t have accepted such a fate.

But centuries of waiting and waking to an apocalypse would change a man, No’a supposed. He changed with less.

“Careful, now. Your hands are shaking.”

Even with his senses overwhelmed with Light, that familiar aether was unmistakable. No’a took a deep breath and slowly released his hands from their fists, turning with a small smile to the spirit standing at the Umbilicus’ doorway. “You always show up at the right time, Spike. Thanks.”

Ardbert simply shrugged. “It’s not really ‘showing up’ if I’ve always been here. Now I don’t know what was in that memory you just saw, but you have to try and keep calm - it wouldn’t do anyone any good if you lost control of your emotions and let the Light take over, especially not in the Crystarium.” He folded his arms and his voice turned somber. “Though, I suppose in the state you’re in…”

His words trailed off and they both looked away. Neither of them needed that sentence finishing. They already knew.

“... So you knew the Exarch then?” Ardbert asked, pushing the topic away from No’a’s imminent demise for the time being. “Honestly, I’m not entirely surprised - a dedication and devotion like what he has for you isn’t found between strangers.”

“... Yes.” No’a nodded weakly. “Though it wasn’t for long. G’raha and I only worked together for a couple of moons, and I suppose those moons  _ were _ life-changing for him, but… He went so far as to claim that I was ‘the star that charted his course’. Guess I made a good impression on him.”

“Well, I’ve found that Warriors of Light tend to have that effect on people. Particularly those from the Source,” Ardbert replied with a smirk, and No’a chuckled - only to wince and hold his head at a sudden Light surge threatening to burst through his skull. Okay, the Light says no laughing. Wonderful. He can’t even keep his spirit up when he’s dying.

“Hm… No’a, look here.”

In what was left of his vision, No’a saw the warrior gesture to one of the bookshelves. Curious, he walked over. Strewn about the top shelf there were a few important-looking items, not nearly as dusty as the books surrounding them: G’raha’s aetherometer, with one lens cracked and the markings worn; an old, beat-up copy of Count Fortemps’ memoirs; a clipped out newspaper article about the Ala Mhigo liberation; and a small open notebook that No’a recognised.

“That’s G’raha’s journal from the expedition,” he mumbled. “I’m surprised it’s still in good knick after three hundred years…”

“Three hundred?”

“That’s what he told Urianger here, so… I suppose it’s technically three hundred and three, give or take.”

“... Blimey. Imagine the stories he’s got to tell, eh?”

No’a fell silent at that, and Ardbert scratched at his stubble awkwardly, realising he’d clearly said the wrong thing for the situation. His gaze turned to the journal, only to notice something. “Huh… You said this is from when you worked with him, but… This page doesn’t seem to be talking about you in the present tense.”

That caught No’a’s attention - he squinted and leant down, scanning the page intently before grunting in frustration and stepping away, shaking his head. “Ugh, Fuck’s sake, the Light… I can’t…”

“You can’t see it properly?” Ardbert asked calmly. No’a nodded. “Want me to read it for you?”

Another, more hesitant nod, almost ashamed but swallowing his pride nonetheless. Ardbert read quietly, as though he were afraid of letting the words outside the Umbilicus despite the fact only No’a could hear him.

_ The plan is going ahead tomorrow. After generations of work and genius, of clinging to the last remaining threads of Eorzea’s hope, we’re finally putting theory to practice in hopes of saving not just this world, but a whole other star from destruction. _

_ As the only one who can control the Tower, this task falls to me and me alone. I won’t lie; while I’m watching Biggs and the others pack up supplies for me - as I’ve been forbidden to expend my energy, like some old fool - I feel a great unease. My mind is already filled with anxious thoughts of “what ifs”... so much so that Biggs has the plans practically locked and guarded from me specifically so I can’t pore over them one last time. The calculations are correct. They have been for years. This should - can - will work. I know my plan when I arrive, as it’s been obvious since we figured out how to travel across the rift - I must prevent the First from rejoining the Source in an overwhelming wave of Light. All I have to do is make it there, and with my unique connection to the Tower and “some of that old-time scholarly thinkin’”, as Biggs fondly puts it, I’ll see it through. _

_ I do worry how the others will be when I’m gone, but every time I ask what their plans are Biggs shuts it down before I can finish my sentence. He knows. I think they all do, and yet… I’ve never seen them so spirited. Everyone’s pitching in with enthusiasm and newfound strength, with smiles on their faces; even people who aren’t employed by the Ironworks have come to offer supplies and what manual labour they can, all in the name of this effort. It makes me acutely aware of what both I and the Tower are to them; a beacon of hope. They’re putting all that’s left of their spirit and positivity into something they’ll never get to see, into a dream of a better world where they won’t exist. _

_ It’s… an almost overwhelming realisation, to say the least, but I dare not share that at the moment. Travelling to another world with the weight of a ruined time’s hopes, wishes and dreams on my shoulders, with the goal to unwrite history itself and so it may be rewritten with a happier ending... It is a monumental task, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. And if it means saving the Source… Saving all those people… Saving him… Then I refuse to rest until our work is done. I won’t let them down. _

“When he says ‘him’... He means me, doesn’t he,” No’a said more than asked. Ardbert simply continued to read.

_ I sometimes wonder if the Warrior of Light would be proud of his legacy here. He was remembered, as I knew he would be, and his tales of glory were the light that gave people hope in this chaotic landscape - the hope that led to this monumental plan, and in turn to the reawakening of the Crystal Tower and its caretaker. His legacy lives on even in small ways, some things I think even he would be surprised by. His tribe still survives, for instance, though they’ve yet to venture out beyond the Shroud even still; I’ve also heard rumours of a man who claims his Ishgardian mother was able to live out her dream of becoming a war medic with the help of a humble weaver who turned out to be none other than the Warrior of Light himself. Even his songs have been passed down through those few survivors who chanced upon one of his performances. Well, maybe they’re his songs - I only ever learnt the one, and no-one else seems to have heard of it before. _

_ … Yet despite all this, upon further reflection, I don’t think he’d be proud at all. For all his brattish confidence and charisma, deep down he only ever wanted to please people. He told me so himself. His heroics, his songs, even his flirting - which somehow no-one else seems to have remembered - it was all, at its core, out of a simple desire to give the people of Eorzea happiness. It pains me to even imagine, but… To know he couldn’t save Eorzea, in those last moments… The despair he must have felt, fighting ‘til his last breath… _

Ardbert frowned as ink trailed randomly at the end of the sentence, broken and splotchy, until a new paragraph was written in the same neat writing as before a few lines down. He hastily continued.

_ People here are happy remembering his legacy, yes, but Eorzea as a whole would be so much happier if he still lived - if the Calamity was prevented in the first place. That’s what the last of Eorzea’s hope had decided so long ago, and so it shall be. I will play my bit part so that he, in turn, can play his starring role. His light will burn bright again; he will live, and bring joy and peace to the Source once more. _

“Just like he said in the memory…”

Ardbert chose to ignore the way No’a’s voice broke, keeping his eyes firmly on the page.

_ A selfish part of me wonders if he still remembered me. All these years later I still recall him fondly despite our short time together, and I must thank my past self for that, for not leaving a single detail out of my journal entries - my own private memories of the Warrior of Light. I can close my eyes and see his face as if I saw him but yesterday: his eyes such a bright, almost glowing orange, alight with hope and a love for adventure; his confident smile that promised a new, better day by his hand… When I make my journey, I will remember those eyes, that smile, and in turn I will carry hope and promises from everyone here. He will be my inspiration in this new world - to be strong, to be brave, to do what is right regardless of the consequences. I only wish I can live up to even a fraction of his lofty legacy. _

_ … I fear I’ve written far too much. That’s what happens when anxious minds are left idle, I suppose. Mayhaps Biggs will finally let me do something - supervise, at the least - otherwise I may lose my mind to anxiety before the morning comes. _

_ Pray guide me well, No’a. Perhaps in the new time, we may meet again… Oh, what a joyous reunion that will be. _

Ardbert faltered slightly reading the last section - it felt far too personal for someone like him to be reading it, but he justified to himself that No’a couldn’t have possibly read it by himself with his condition, and… it was something he needed to know. He looked up at No’a, only to find he wasn’t where he last saw him - instead, he was a few paces away and staring blankly at the opposite wall, his blue tail loosely wound around his leg as he took obvious, deep breaths. Ardbert felt a deep sense of empathy and clutched at his chest, unknowingly at the same time No’a clutched his - even if his heart no longer beat, the warrior could easily feel how much No’a’s own was hurting, and not just due to the Light.

“You two mean a lot to each other, it seems,” Ardbert said, breaking the silence. No response. It was only natural, he supposed, after he practically dumped all that information onto No’a while he was still trying to process everything else happening to him. Still, standing around wasn’t going to get them anywhere, and so he walked over to the bard. He spared no time - they didn’t have much left, after all.

“So what do you intend to do now?”

Still no verbal response, but his tail flicked from side to side - he was thinking.

“... If you’re wondering what the Ascian meant by the Tempest, he was referring to the stormy seas surrounding Kholusia - he must be down there somewhere, his lair hidden beneath the waves. To be honest, I don’t know  _ how _ he thinks you’re going to make it down there…”

“I’ll swim.”

“Wh… Sorry, what?”

No’a took one last breath in and out before standing taller, his posture fixed to his usual, more heroic standard as he turned to Ardbert. His eyes were alight with newfound fire; his voice no longer quiet and broken, but firm and confident. “If it’s in Kholusia’s seas like you said, I intend to swim down to the depths of this Tempest, find G’raha, rescue him, and then, Menphina willing, I can resist the Light long enough to bag myself another godsdamned Ascian and save both worlds from destruction.”

Ardbert stood there for a moment, expressionless, before a light chuckle involuntarily escaped his lips. “You mean to  _ swim to the bottom of the ocean _ , defeat an  _ Ascian _ , then swim all the way back up with the Exarch, all in one trip  _ by yourself  _ before you succumb to the Light?”

“I don’t see why not,” No’a shrugged with a lopsided grin. “It’s not like I have to worry about death by drowning, remember? Besides…” He turned to look at the bookshelf where G’raha’s journal lay, then back at Ardbert. “I have my reasons to at least try. So many people have sacrificed so much to save this star. Minfilia, you and your friends, all those people from that ruined timeline… I won’t let that all be for naught just because of some Light corruption. And…” No’a’s ears fell for just a second before they bounced back up again. “Judge me all you like for this being the most important point, but I’ll be damned to the deepest pit of the seven hells if I let G’raha die before he gets to see the happy ending he and his lost allies all worked so hard for.”

Ardbert smiled. He had to agree with No’a’s points, thinking back on his dear friends as a bittersweet feeling blossomed in his chest. Too many lives had been lost for the sake of the First; it was high time for a life to be saved for it instead.

Knowing No’a’s penchant for miracles, it could just happen.

“Well, any plan’s better than no plan, and I can’t judge wanting to save a friend despite deadly risks, quite honestly,” he said with a smile as he walked towards the doors of the Umbilicus. “Shall we?”

“Oi, I thought this was a trip I was going to be making on my lonesome?” No’a remarked playfully, nonetheless following Ardbert out.

“Well, two dead men walking are better than one, don’t you think?”

“Ha! True enough, Spiky.”

They fell silent after that as they walked out into the Crystarium, towards the Amaro Launch, a resolve burning within both of them to save the First, no matter what it took.

And for No’a...

_ I’m not letting you go when we’ve only just met again. Hang in there, sweetness. _

The resolve burned doubly so.


End file.
